


love is straight

by Pochapal



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: April Fools, F/M, this is a joke don't take it seriously, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 13:23:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6425677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pochapal/pseuds/Pochapal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max Caulfield is just your normal straight girl who likes to take photographs and attend Blackwell Academy and live a life free of The Gays. All her life she has been looking for the one man who can steal her heart. Luckily for her, Arcadia Bay holds more than just secrets in the form of six perfectly eligible straight male bachelors for her to choose from. Will she be able to find her true love from this choice selection? Will she win the Everyday Heroes contest? And what is up with that neighing in the Prescott barn?</p>
<p>Find the answers to all these questions and more in Love is Straight!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Route 1: Samuel Taylor

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this probably needs some context before we can begin.
> 
> As most people in the fandom know, today is the launch day of the LiS VN, Love is Strange. And, if you've been following the dev blog, you'll also know that certain members of the fandom were frustrated over the lack of male love interests. (Namely, Warren and Nathan)
> 
> Then mjrrgr, writer of Rachel's route, started the joke concept of Love is Straight, offering a bunch of male love interests that nobody asked for yet everyone needs. It's beautiful and I highly recommend you check out her /love is straight tag on tumblr.
> 
> Anyway, since today's the launch day and also April 1, I decided to write up these routes in as terrible a way as possible. Call it a hot mess, call it a love letter to LiSVN. I personally don't know what it is, but it is a thing and I'm a little ashamed it even exists.
> 
> But for those poor straights who feel left out by the VN, here's the extended low-budget cut of Max Caulfield's adventures in heterosexual love!
> 
> (all credit for this idea goes to mjrrgr and anyone else on the lisvn team who was involved in creating this heterosexual fantasy concept. i am but the humble godless heathen turning it into shitty prose. please play the vn when it comes out today instead of reading this, i beg you.)

Blackwell Academy is always beautiful through the frame of Max's lens, the way the world is immortalised in the snap of the shutter and the whir of her Polaroid producing the instant picture.

_Oh, Polaroid_ , Max thinks. _If only I could love you…_

Unfortunately, Max's Polaroid is a girl, and lesbian romance is Bad(TM), so this small camera must condemn herself to a life of celibacy, if only because instant cameras are an all-female species.

(Straight camera DLC coming to you this winter for the modest price of $69.99!)

She takes photos of the brick patterns on the walls, a clump of dead grass on the floor, the shrivelled butt of a cigarette dumped by Victoria Chase months ago (oh, how she thinks so many _platonic_ thoughts there).

All the pictures are truly beautiful, shot in black and white because those are straight pride colours. _Go heterosexuality!_ she thinks, because the Bigfoots just don't do it for her. (Spoiler: Bigfoot is a girl and a rumoured lesbian and that kind of content is not approved for this wholesome heterosexual love story.) Gotta have pride somewhere.

The brownette smiles thoughtfully when a bird flies by, framed against a sky erupting in colours and hues. But she cannot take a photo because there might be a rainbow lens flare and we all know what that kind of symbolism means.

Of course, you're all thinking _how can this wholesome, heterosexual girl have been at Blackwell for a whole year and still be without a man?_ Well, good straight reader (this is for heteros only!!! gays not allowed!!!) this is your lucky day.

Maxine stands by the _Prescott Dormitory_ sign and sighs wistfully. The budding young photographer feels her heart rate quicken when the door to the shed slips open and the school custodian, Samuel Taylor, walks out.

He is stunning in his blue scrubs and purple gloves. His wristwatch gleams in the sunlight and his greying goatee sets young Max's world on fire. Today is the day, she decides. No longer will she keep these deep straight feelings buried. Life's about taking chances and hell _yes_ is she taking this chance.

“Hi, Samuel,” Max says. She walks up to him, shying and small and glistening with her natural beauty. “How are you today?”

“Hello young Max,” Samuel says. He blinks behind his glasses. _Wowser, swooning,_ Max thinks. Her entire body trembles but she holds strong like a lighthouse against a storm. “Samuel is going to see the squirrels. They love to see me in the mornings.”

“Can I… come with you?” asks Max. Her heart is pulsing in her chest at a rate akin to cardiac explosion but her heterosexual love keeps her grounded.

“If you want,” Samuel says, aloof and nonplussed in a way that makes him the only thing on Max's mind. “Some of the squirrels are very photogenic.”

Max smiles to herself and follows him out to the woods just beyond Blackwell. _I'm on my first date with Samuel_ , she thinks. _This is not a dream. This is reality._

*

(imagine a scene transition here. The forest might fade in or something. But this isn't really a VN and we're really low-budget but let's use our imaginations, since straight romance is the most imaginative and original of all.)

*

“Say, 'nut'!” Max says and she takes a picture of three squirrels. Her camera fixes on them, but her eyes are on Samuel. He sits on a fallen tree and reminds her of a woodland spirit. _So majestic, but so ethereal…_

“You really can use a camera,” Samuel says. His face twists into a smile and Max knows she goes red but doesn't care.

“I like to take pictures,” she says. “Of everything. I am a photographer.”

He is hooked on her every word. Their breaths are probably in sync and the wind is blowing nicely. “I like to paint,” he says in his voice that is so soft, yet so tender. Max longs to hear him whisper gently into her ears.

“I guess we're both artists in our own way, then…” she says.

“I love to paint the forest,” Samuel says. He shuffles a little on the log, inviting Max to come sit. Entranced, she does. The wood is cold and damp but with Samuel next to her it is the most comfortable place she's ever been. “And the animals. Do you like animals, Max?”

“Yes,” she breathes, knowing she _has_ to get him to like her. “I took a picture of a doe in the forest, once. It was beautiful.”

“I paint my spirit animal, too,” Samuel says. “It's a squirrel.”

She thinks about it, and the image is just… so right. “I think the doe is mine.”

“I think so, too,” Samuel says and she knows she can never disagree. “But that's not all I paint.”

“Oh?” Max says.

“I think I want to paint you, Max,” he says and Max's heart flutters because this is real, this is happening, oh my God.

“Only if I can take your picture, Samuel,” Max says, daring, taking the chance.

“That would be nice,” Samuel says.

*

(Another magical transition to the end of the route because only The Gays care about bonding over squirrels and picking up garbage for four days)

*

It is Friday. Max stands behind the school with a single Polaroid photo in her hands. (We also cut out the conflict arc/love triangle between Max, her camera, and Samuel. Having two girls in a romantic story was pushing the boundaries just a little too much!!!) It is exquisite in its colouring, its contrast, its framing.

_Samuel, I hope you like it…_

Samuel appears a little later. He holds a canvas painting. Max tries to get a glimpse as he approaches but fails to do so. “Max,” he says by way of greeting. His cheeks flush with the slightest tint of pink, so unlike Max who is a red-hot blushing mess.

“Samuel,” Max says.

After that, words don't need to be spoken. Max gives Samuel the photo – it's his beautiful face superimposed on that image of the squirrel she took on that fateful first day. His face lights up like the sun.

Then she takes her painting. It's a majestic doe among the woodlands. Her face looks back at her, and it is so beautiful she sheds a tear

“Thank you,” they both say in unison. Their hands touch and Max just knows that this will be one snapshot of many to come.


	2. Route 2: William Price

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the gift that just keeps on giving.

When Max thinks of Arcadia Bay, she always thinks of William Price. The bold, suave, single dad who raised her once best friend Chloe (who is not appearing in this story for obvious reasons) captures her eye, her thoughts, and even her heart.

So it's no coincidence that she enters the coffee shop the same time that William does, every single day. She always sits and watches from afar, enamoured with emotions she cannot begin to describe.

But today is different. She cannot sit on these feelings any more. She has to do _something_.

Max walks up to William with as much affected bravado as she can muster. “Uh, hey, William,” she says and she feels small and vulnerable in a sexy way.

“Max Caulfield,” William says in those hot, gravelly dad tones. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“I just, I really like coffee,” she says. “Especially mocha.”

“You're a woman after my own heart,” William says with joviality. Jokes like these, where Max can't tell if he's being serious or not, play on her mind for weeks at a time.

“You're so funny,” Max says with finesse and romantic precision.

“It's good to laugh sometimes,” William says. He has blonde hair and is the father of Chloe. “Being a single dad, raising a daughter on my own, without a woman by my side… it sometimes make you forget to have fun, you know?”

His backstory is so tragic and poignant that Max has to take a gulp of coffee just so she doesn't cry. “I never knew how hard it was for you,” she says.

“I try not to think about it,” William says. “But when you're going off alone on a romantic weekend for two in Paris, it gets hard.”

“You know, William,” Max says. “I'm not doing anything this week… perhaps I could accompany you? Just so you don't feel alone?”

William looks troubled and Max is seized by worry. “That would be nice, but… I don't know,” he says. “Chloe is so used to a single-dad life. I don't know how she'd react having a mother.”

 _A… mother?_ He is moving faster than her. It takes all of Max's effort not to be dragged down by the current of emotions. “I knew Chloe, once,” Max says. “I'm sure her heart will warm up to the concept, eventually.”

“Let's hope so, Max,” William says. “And as they say in France, _allons-y_.”

*

(We wasted all our budget on machine-translating the trip into French for immersion, but there was a dispute among the creative team that lost it all. But who needs needless plot and character development? Certainly not _Love is Straight_!)

*

After France, Max is glad that Chloe is more accepting of the idea of a mother in her life. But more importantly, Max and William have grown closer in ways she could only dream of before.

They are back in Arcadia Bay and stand outside the Price house. It is Friday (in _Love is Straight_ , continuity means very little!!! we must sacrifice as much as possible for the ultimate heterosexual experience!!!) and this week has been the most important of her life.

“I feel like a different person, William,” Max says. In her bag is an album full of pictures taken in France, pictures of _them_. “I just… I can't believe this has all happened.”

“You should, Max,” William says. “It's you and me. Nothing will ever change what happened between us.”

“Oh, William,” Max says. He smiles. She smiles. There is a closeness that cannot be replicated.

Max's phone goes off with a text from Chloe that says _hey mom_ and everything is good.


	3. Route 3: Harry Aaron Prescott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do i feel like i need to justify myself.

It's the threatening telegram that sends Max up to the Prescott barn that fateful afternoon. She holds her land deeds in one hand and her camera in the other, because the telegram said _bring your deeds_ and _let's see if your camera can defend you from my scorn._

She feels a great deal of emotions when she steps into the barn and finds Harry Aaron Prescott taking a selfie atop a horse.

It's love at first sight but she tries to bury it under layers of denial.

“Um, Harry Aaron Prescott?” she says, uncertain and maybe a little anxious.

“I am Harry Aaron Prescott,” says Harry Aaron Prescott. “And what do you want from me?”

The horse neighs. It is majestic and beautiful and Max cries a little. “I got your telegram,” she says and is in awe. Only the most sophisticated people use telegrams in 2013. It marks him as a cut above the rest.

His outfit costs three million dollars.

“Caulfield,” he says, dragging the name across his lips in hate-fuelled sexual tension. “You really think you can buy _my_ land?”

“I mean, I—”

Harry Aaron Prescott waves his hand dismissively. “I've heard enough,” he says. “It's all the same. People think they can tell _me_ what to do, like it's—”

He makes a wounded noise that the horse soothes with a soft whinny. He's so deep and mysterious. Max is drawn to him with an unstoppable magnetism.

(The horse is a dude horse so there's no need to worry about him being a romantic rival.)

“Is everything all right, Harry Aaron Prescott?” Max asks Harry Aaron Prescott.

“I'm sorry,” Harry Aaron Prescott says. “It's just that I have so much pain. It's hard sometimes.”

Her heart breaks at the simplistic tragedy, and she knows she can mend this broken bad boy with heterosexual love. Because that's the cure to everything. This is a scientific fact.

“I'm here, Harry Aaron Prescott,” Max says. “You can talk to me.”

*

(I'm doing you the liberty of replacing 50000 words of Max loving Harry Aaron Prescott better with this nifty transition. It portrays all the themes, the emotional highs and lows, in half the time! The future is now.)

*

By Friday, Max feels she knows Harry Aaron Prescott like she knows herself. His wounds are hers. His trauma is hers. His tragedy is hers.

And she takes it all and smooths it away.

They each ride their own horse atop the cliffs. The lighthouse is by them and the sun is setting. Harry Aaron Prescott sits on a saddle made with countless five-hundred dollar bills because he is rich and also reckless (as detailed by that powerful anecdote of his eleventh birthday – Max still can't think of it with dry eyes).

“You've been a real help, Max,” he says.

“Oh, Harry Aaron Prescott,” Max says. For the first time all week, he's referred to her as something other than _Caulfield_. It must be true love. “I'm so glad you're happy for the first time in your life.”

“I know,” says Harry Aaron Prescott. “I can't imagine myself without you now.”

He approaches her, wraps his arms around her and buries his face into the crook of her neck even though they are on horses because the laws of physics cannot get in the way of the power of heteromance.

“I've dropped the debt on your land deeds,” he says. “It doesn't matter when it's _ours_.”

They take a selfie together and Max is emotionally whole.

Below, the horses neigh. They look at each other, smile, and ride into the sunset.


	4. Route 4: 1977 Needham Eighteen Wheeler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who needs warren when we have this awkward, dorky boy to steal our hearts?

All her life Max has been enamoured with photographing truckers. There's just something poetic about the open road life and the liberty that she can't get enough of.

She has countless trucker portfolios, her magnum opus. But that seems to matter little when 1977 Needham Eighteen Wheeler timidly rolls up to her after school, blushing behind the roar of his engine.

“1977 Needham Eighteen Wheeler,” Max says, confused and surprised. He is the only truck in Arcadia Bay without a trucker. It's deep and tragic all at once. “How are you?”

“Max, I need to ask you something,” 1977 Needham Eighteen Wheeler stammers. “There's a drive-in this Friday, and I'm wondering if you'd like to go?”

Classic drive-in movies are the way to Max's heart. All the boys know that. “Of course I'll go, 1977 Needham Eighteen Wheeler,” she says, and finds the truck's shy nature to be incredibly endeaing. “You know I can't resist.”

“That's so great,” says 1977 Needham Eighteen Wheeler “I'll be sure to remind you at every waking moment that we are going to the drive-in!”

“Sounds like a date,” Max says, and she's unsure why she says it.

Could it be… love?

_Perhaps all along, 1977 Needham Eighteen Wheeler's trucker… is me._

_*_

(I graciously cut out the endearingly comic story of 1977 Needham Eighteen Wheeler calling and texting Max about the drive-in every fourteen seconds because all that build-up just gets in the way of this beautifully straight love story. We also skip over the conflict arising because our charming love interest 1977 Needham Eighteen Wheeler is too big for the drive-in, because angst is only for The Gays.)

(Warning: things get pretty hot and heavy in the conclusion of 1977 Needham Eighteen Wheeler's route!)

*

On Friday, they are perched on top of the hill overlooking the drive in. They watch the movie through the zoom lens of Max's camera, laughing and crying at the cinematic beauty.

“I'm so glad I decided to say yes,” Max says. “This has been the best night of my life. Thank you.”

1977 Needham Eighteen Wheeler sighs and Max feels her heart constrict. “Is everything okay?” she asks with doe-eyed sympathy.

“It's just…” 1977 Needham Eighteen Wheeler begins and Max can tell this is going to be an emotional confession. “All this time with you… makes me sad I don't have a trucker.”

“I can fix that,” Max says, a whisper of a better future.

“What do you mean?” asks 1977 Needham Eighteen Wheeler. “I don't… _oh_.”

Max opens his door, and with deft loving determination, she climbs into the cabin and sits down. The seats are soft and warm. “Is this helping?” she asks, and spins his steering wheel.

His horn honks. It's unclear if it's Max's touch that does it, or something more.

“I'll be your trucker,” Max says. “It's been my destiny all this time, hasn't it?”

“Max…” 1977 Needham Eighteen Wheeler says.

“Say no more,” Max says and caresses the dashboard. “Now, we drive.”

She twists the keys, starts the ignition, pulls the gear stick, and they're off onto wider roads.

Neither look back. They don't want to.


	5. Route 5: Zeitgeist Gallery interviewer (I think his name is Danny??)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i replayed the entire gallery scene in episode 5 just to get this guy's name. i hope my efforts are appreciated.

“Thanks for answering my questions, Max Caulfield,” Danny says and hands her his card. Max looks over his shoulder and sees her selfie, blown up for the world of San Francisco to see. _I guess I_ am _an Everyday Hero…_

“Thank you for asking me, Danny,” she says, trying to keep her cool. “It's so cool to be interviewed for an actual magazine…”

“Things only get cooler from here, Max,” Danny says, all fast-talking charm. Her heart speeds up. “Welcome to the world of art and fame. Let me be your guide.”

“In that case,” Max says. “Would you mind accompanying me to the winners' party tonight? It could be fun.”

“Of course!” says Danny.

*

(There are several dull scenes here, of Max at the party, struggling with whether or not it's morally right to let the fame go to her head, a dramatic conflict between her and Danny's ideals, and the impulse purchase of a seven-thousand dollar instant camera. None of it matters. This route isn't even popular, _God_.)

*

Friday comes up with the sudden force of a tornado. Max stands at the airport, waiting for her flight to take her back to Arcadia Bay. She is conflicted and torn as she looks at her shiny new camera. _I wonder what everybody back at Blackwell will think of me now?_

When Danny appears, she isn't surprised. Despite their ups and downs, he has been the only constant this week, the only thing she could always look at with certainty in the mercurial world of celebrity glamour.

“Max!” he says. “I needed to see you before you left.” There is a bittersweet swelling, but Max knows that leaving is the right thing to do. She has to move on with her life.

“What is it, Danny?” she asks.

“Do you remember when we first met?” he asks. “We were at the gallery and I asked you questions for an interview.”

“Of course I remember,” Max says. “It changed my life forever.”

Danny smiles, looks nervous, and reaches into his pocket. “Then I shouldn't have to explain this,” he says.

It's a magazine. The headline is _MAX CAULFIELD: INTERVIEW WITH AN EVERYDAY HERO_.

“It's… beautiful,” Max says. Then she feels sad. “Oh, I wish I could stay in San Francisco forever, Danny.”

“It's okay,” Danny says. “We'll have this article to remember each other by.”

Max lifts her camera, and with sorrow, captures one last shot of Danny. “I'll never forget you.”

The plane touches down with a soft roar, and she must be ready to face her future alone.


	6. Route 6: Luke Parker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is disgusting and this entire fic was a terrible idea. i'm sorry if you've read this far. what monster have i created.....

On Monday, Max encounters Luke in the cafeteria.

“Man, I wish I could just beat Nathan Prescott's ass,” he says, even though Nathan Prescott doesn't exist in this universe.

“Me too,” Max says. Okay, Nathan does exist, but he's not going to be prevalent. That's far too cliché for this kind of story.

Luke looks up at her from behind his hat and his eyes light up. “A kindred spirit,” he whispers, almost reverent.

Max sits next to him. “If there's one thing I love as much as photography, it's hating rich douches,” she says. There is a salt shaker on the table. This is in no way symbolic. “You know he's going to bribe the principal to win the Everyday Heroes contest.”

“It fucking sucks,” Luke says. “People like us will never get anywhere when he's around.”

When Max looks at Luke, she sees them bonded forever, against the world. Inspiration comes to her. “I have an idea, you know,” she says. “We could work on our entries together and beat him in an objective way.”

“Sneaky, smart,” Luke says. “I like it. But can we still kick Nathan's ass more literally?”

“Of course,” Max says. “You don't think I carry this spiked-stud boot bag around with me for nothing, do you?”

“Hell yes,” Luke says. “Hell fucking yes.”

They scheme and Luke slips Max an earbud that she graciously takes.

*

(The rest of the week skips by, including a moment of portraiture with clear hetero tension, an award-winning scene where Max and Luke throw Nathan into a hole and kick him a few times, and a moment where they sabotage the Vortex Club and this is really hard to do because this is like the only actually viable ship????? and I'm getting unironically invested????)

(This entire thing is falling apart fast help me.)

*

“And the winner of the Everyday Heroes contest is… Max Caulfield and Luke Parker's entry!”

Luke fistpumps the air and wraps Max into a hug. Her skin steadily turns red and joy rolls off in waves.

“We did it!” Luke cheers. “Take that, Prescott! You slimy bastard.”

His joy is her joy. “Next up we just have to take down the pretentious artists of San Francisco,” Max says with a wry humour.

“Oh, we'll take 'em,” Luke says. “We can take on the world with our teamwork.”

“I actually hope so,” Max says. “After this week, I can't imagine doing anything without you, Luke.”

They take to the stage. People clap and cheer except for the Vortex Club members who look up with hatred and thinly-veiled envy. _Rage is not a good colour on you, Victoria_ , Max thinks, noting it down for her and Luke to laugh about a little later.

Principal Wells hands them each a trophy and a ticket to San Francisco. “Congratulations again,” he says and Max is on top of the world.

Luke touches her shoulder. “Only one thing could make this better,” he says. Something begins to rise up and pull them together. Max makes no attempt to resist.

In front of all of Blackwell Academy, he kisses her. She kisses back and sparks erupt in a way that could never be captured on camera.

 _Boy_ , Max thinks, _it is good to be straight._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i'm ip blocked from downloading the lisvn i won't be surprised. there is no forgiveness or redemption from what i've done.


End file.
